Sirius's son

Triwizard Tournament

"Here's to Fred and George winning their bet of thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts, and a fake wand that Ireland wins but Krum catches the Snitch!" Eliza shouted, standing on her chair and throwing her arms into the air.

It was the most exciting match Rigel had ever seen. Even hours after the fact, he was still blown away by the sheer speed, skill, and talent that had been on display. Even better, though, was that Ireland had won the match. Fred and Geroge's bet had been precisely correct, the skill of the Irish chasers had been too much, and in order to save some face, and end the match on his terms, Viktor Krum had caught the snitch when Ireland was one hundred and sixty points up.

Everybody else in the tent cheered, Fred and George, grinning ear to ear.

"Who's the best!" Rigel yelled.

"Ireland!" everyone yelled.

"There's no one like Krum," Ron said grumpily. 

"KRUM?" Fred and George said in sync,

"DUMB KRUM!" Eliza taunted

"DUMB KRUM!" Fred and George repeated. "DUMB KRUM, DUMB KRUM-"

"He's like a bird, the way he rides the wind," Ron continued.

Rigel and his dad started laughing as Fred and George began flapping their arms like birds, chanting "DUMB KRUM!"

"He's more than an athlete," Ron said. I threw my Irish flag over his head as Bill and Charlie encouraged Eliza, and Ron smacked it off, scowling. "He's an artist!"

"I think you're in love, Ron," Ginny said sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

"Oh shut up!" Ron scowled.

 The sounds of celebrating Irish supporters grew rowdier and rowdier as the night went on, as the celebrations became positively raucous. It was around one in the morning before Tonks told Rigel they would get some sleep, and they left for their own tent, to finally lay down for the night. The sounds of the celebrations acted as a comforting backdrop as he drifted slowly off to sleep.

But he never really fell into a deep sleep, because all too soon, Rigel was being shaken awake by a startled looking Tonks,

"Rigel, get up! Come on now, this is urgent!"

"S'matter?" he asked, his voice slurring in groggy sleep. He was dimly aware that the lights outside had not yet gone out, but the screams of celebrations sounded wrong. Instead of roars of happiness and songs of celebration, people were screaming in terror, and Rigel could hear people running around outside their tent. Feeling a pang of panic in his stomach, he fell into his clothes and stumbled out of the tent.

People were running as fast as they could, fleeing from the campsite directly into the forest. Rigel looked to try and see what they were fleeing from and caught sight of strange jets of light, drunken jeering, and loud guffawing. Over the throngs of fleeing supporters, Harry could see a tightly clumped group of people, marching forward through the campsite. They were throwing spells into the crowds of people, and Harry could see that they were all dressed in long-dark cloaks, with masks in the shape of skulls covering their faces. Four of the wizards had their wand pointed directly upward, and he squinted through the darkness to see what they were doing.

His mouth dropped open in abject horror, as he saw the shapes floating in the air above them. About twenty feet off the ground, floating with their arms and legs stretched out at their sides, as they twisted and wriggled in what looked like considerable pain. More wizards were joining the group, laughing maniacally and pointing up at the struggling figures. As they passed by a burning tent, the figures in the air were illuminated, and Harry recognized the lead figure in the air. It was the Muggle field hand, Mr. Roberts. Behind him was an older woman, that Rigel was certain was Mr. Robert's wife, who was suddenly flipped upside down, so her bloomers were showing. Behind her, were two children, a boy, and a girl, both of whom were screaming in terror and pain.